


Felida

by Persephone_Van_Dyke



Series: Time Agency [4]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Animal Play, Community: kink_bingo, Cross-cultural, Cross-species Play, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Negotiation Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:38:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone_Van_Dyke/pseuds/Persephone_Van_Dyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'Hey, don't call me monkey-boy, that's offensive.'<br/>'Yeah, well, try telling people twenty times a day that you're a Felida, not a cat-girl.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felida

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Wildcard Prompt in [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)
> 
> Not my characters, not making any money from this

  
She was sitting at the bar when he arrived, solitary, radiating barely concealed hostility. She was drinking neat whisky, wearing an impressively battered leather biker jacket, her tail curled neatly around the leg of her stool.

They're new on Earth, refugees from another system - in fact, they're fleeing the same distant, dragging war that had claimed the Boeshane peninsula.

Partly because he fancied her, partly because she was someone new, partly because of the air of hard defiance with which she wore the jacket – he went over to her.

'Having a good night?' he asked casually, as he tried to catch the bartender's eyes.

She sighed theatrically, sipped her drink, and turned to face him. Her ears were tilting back, in a recognisably hostile way.

'Let's move this along, shall we?' she demanded. 'No, I won't laugh at pussy jokes, I don't want any cream, I'm not interested in sitting on your lap, and if you try to stroke me I _will_ bite you.'

Her tail gave a twitch, as if it wanted to lash angrily.

'Woah, sorry,' he said, startled and contrite. 'Didn't mean to be rude.'

'Yeah, well.'

'Just - I've never met a Felida properly before, wondered if you wanna talk?'

She shrugged.

'What's to talk about?'

'Well, for example – good jacket.'

'Cheers.'

She did start talking to him. Guardedly, then - he's a good listener - with more ease. She told him she'd been on Earth nearly a year. She'd come in on one of the early transport ships, spent ten months in a camp while they checked the new arrivals for new diseases, parasites, forms of religious extremism and so on. She'd hated every minute, only played along because her mother and younger brothers were so desperate to be allowed to stay.

'And since I've been living _here_ ,' she gestured, around the bar and at the city beyond, 'it's been one long round of crap pickup lines. Everyone thinks because I'm a Felida, I'm thick, or easy, or just here to be played with.'

'Humans are a bit stupid about that,' Boeshane said, apologetically. 'I figure, we all grew up with the idea that cats are pets – it takes time to adjust to a species that's so similar.'

'Huh. And I guess _he's_ less of a problem,' she said, gesturing at the bartender, a green, heavyset humanoid with six eyes.

'He's more – what humans think of as an alien,' Boeshane acknowledged. 'We came to this whole new-species thing late, you know? I've been studying historical human attitudes to aliens and it's pretty weird.'

(Boeshane's most recent study module was a special essay on the 'Silurian Detente' of 31st century Earth. Humans had managed to hold friendly negotiations with one other species and they thought they were so _advanced_. For a guy who could name maybe forty-five different species who had some form of recognised status or right-to-inhabit on his home planet, it was bizarrely antiquated.)

'I know it's not great, but we're getting better. Slowly.'

'Well, hurry it up, monkey-boy,' she flung back. 'Because we're here now, and we're got claws that do _this_.' She held up a paw, demonstrated. The effect is alarming the first time you see it done.

'Hey, don't call me monkey-boy, that's offensive.'

'Yeah, well, try telling people twenty times a day that you're a Felida, not a cat-girl.'

'Fair enough. 'Nother drink?'

'Go on then.'

They sat drinking and talking, riffing ideas off each other. Her conversation was intriguing – she seemed to want to push him, insult him, question him. It fascinated him – he'd not enjoyed anyone's company this much in a while. For her part, she liked nattering to a human who gave a damn about her opinions and knew that his species weren't the be-all-and-bloody-end-all of galactic evolution.

Eventually, the bar started to clear and then the buzzer went for closing time. Boeshane, by now emboldened though not at all drunk, decided to ask.

'OK, tell me if this is over the line, but I'd really like us to have sex sometime.'

She stopped, startled, in the act of finishing her drink.

'That's pretty damn direct,' she managed.

'Welcome to Earth, sweetheart,' he smiled, as if he wasn't a native of a distant colony planet himself.

'The rumours about humans are true, then?'

'Which ones?'

'Oh, well – "for a good time, call a human". "The species that has touched up every star", you know.'

'What we lack in species acceptance, we kinda make up in sheer random horniness,' Boeshane agreed.

'In my culture, there's a whole etiquette thing first – staged fights, territorial negotiations. We don't just say it the first time we meet. Unless, well, biology takes over. And then, it's not very - talky.'

'Sorry,' said Boeshane, as they headed out of the bar. 'It was just a question – you know, no pressure.'

She considered him.

'Also, the logistics must be kind of weird. You don't have spines on your penis, right?'

'Not the last time I checked,' Boeshane said, in a very calm voice, because he was trying not to laugh.

'Ah, see, we like those.'

They walked down the street in silence for a minute.

'Tell you what. Let's. But this is only cause I'm just coming on, don't think it means I necessarily like you or anything.'

'Uh – “just coming on”?' queried Boeshane. He is pretty sure he knows, but it's probably better to check.

'Oh heat. Don't your females have that?'

'Not so much. Basically, for humans, any time's pretty much OK - it's just about being in the mood.'

'Weird.'

Back in the motel room he got them, they sat on the bed, and a small silence fell.

'So – does your species kiss?' he asked.

'Not so much kiss. Rubbing faces together, and sniffing – that's quite important.'

'OK - may I?'

She nodded, put down her glass, leaned over to him. Their faces brushed together. She felt ridiculously soft – nothing so tough and defiant should be that soft. He rubbed his cheek against her, feeling the stiffness of her whiskers, the smoother sensation of her fur beneath. She opened her mouth slightly, emitted a guttural purring noise.

'Mmm,' he responded. He could _feel_ her purr, vibrating up from her throat. Intuitively, he tried to match her. 'Mrrrrrrrm. Krrrrrrm. Krrrrrrrr.' A rolling, sonorous noise, his tongue vibrating off his hard palate. Succumbing to impulse, he pressed his nose and mouth deeper against her fur, inhaling her. She smelt of warm fur, her skin strongly scented only at the temples. She burrowed her face against the material of his tunic, inhaling deeply.

They wrapped round each other. He could feel the press of her ribcage - more circular that a human one, the bone structure of a quadruped. His hands ruffled deep into her fur, and she gave him an answering squeeze, paws pressing massively on his back.

'What do you wanna do?' he asked, softly.

'I don't know. Something _filthy_ ,' she responded - enthusiastic for the new, the kinky, the outrageousness of sex with another species. 'What do humans do?'

'Uh...' he backed off a little, thinking. 'We could take our clothes off?'

Out of her jacket and jeans (no underwear), she was not a great surprise to him, being essentially feline, and therefore familiar, a domestic cat scaled up. He admired the angle of her limbs, the lighter patches of fur on her abdomen.

'You're very - pink,' she said, looking him up and down. 'I always sort of imagined you'd be furry under the clothes.'

'Not usually,' he said, tugging his T-shirt over his head. 'I did once date a guy who was pretty furry, but - not exactly in a Felidae way.'

She looked at him closer. 'Oh, you have _bits_ of fur. Um.'

'Bad thing?' he asked, picking up on her tone.

'To me, it just looks like you've been really really ill and gone bald,' she said, amused.

'This is all we get,' he said, shrugging. She leaned over, inquisitively, to sniff him.

'Mmm. Definitely a sexy bit,' she said. Looked up, saw his expression. 'What?'

'Armpits are - well, not that they're not sexy, but that's quite a _specific_ kink with humans,' he said.

'Well, they smell sexy. Lots of human pheremones.'

'So, do you get sexy pheremones?' he asked. She looked at him.

'Oh, hell, yes. Round my butt.' She grinned. 'A tom would have his face practically attached down there by now. Not a eunuch, are you?'

Something they teach trainee time-travellers at the Agency: don't freak out over cultural differences, dive right in and see what happens. So he did, forgetting even to strip off his boxers.

Her tail arching over him, he dipped in and face-rubbed against her butt, inhaling to catch the scent of feline pheremones. There was something - very vague, very subtle. He figured he was probably not nasally attuned enough to pick up or make sense of it, but a different kind of arousal was infusing him now - the forbidden, the taboo, the willing collision of culture and species. He's sensitively, fascinatedly aroused.

Then, moving to more familiar ground, he lapped his tongue across the patch of darker hairs which concealed her labia. This he can do.

'Woah, stop right there, monkey-boy.'

He stopped.

'Grooming is _not_ really what we're here for.'

'Ah. No?'

'It feels weird - it's not a sex thing for me.'

'OK.' Take this on board, don't get shy. 'Sorry. And, thanks for saying.'

'Not to worry.'

'So - no licking, then?'

'Na-ah. Why, do you...?'

'Yeah, humans do lots of licking.'

'All over?'

'If they feel like it.'

'So - would you like me to lick you?'

'Only if you want to.'

'Oh - hell, why not? Come here.'

She rasped her tongue through his hair, but quickly gave that up. ('You've put some yuck on it.' 'We call it gel.' 'I call it yuck'.) Switching to his shoulder, she seemed more impressed. 'Salty. Nice.'

'Woah. Your tongue is really...' Scrapey, actually. Raspy and rough - like warm, living sandpaper, or how pumice would feel if it could caress you. 'Mmm. It feels like a massage. Sorta.'

She started to get bored after a bit.

'So, human sex. Nudity, grooming. When do you do the fun part?'

'I was - ' He tends to wait for a female partner to indicate that she's ready, knowing that a) usually she'll need more time, and b) this is the 51st century, she'll tell him what she wants.

He explained this.

'Oh. I've been ready since...a while. I was waiting for you to pounce.'

'Right. Got you. I think I know this bit - we kinda play-fight, right?'

'No,' she said. 'If I was fully on, I'd just be sticking my butt in the air and begging you to fuck me.'

He swallowed, unable to speak for a second for the hotness of that mental image. 'That sounds - amazing.'

'But I've got maybe a day to go, and anyway I want to know how humans do it. You do play-fighting?'

'Yeah, sometimes.' He grinned. 'It's not compulsory, but it's a lot of fun.'

'I know how to fight,' she said, 'but it's not exactly _play_ -fighting...Wanna give it a try?'

'Sure. Only, go easy with those,' he said, looking apprehensively at her claws. They were big, a couple of inches long when unretracted, and could have torn him to shreds.

'You're such a _kitten_ ,' she said, scornfully. 'OK. I'll play gentle.'

For her it felt odd, fighting this weird pink male who had no real means of fighting back, no defences, only funny little monkey hands. For all that, he rolled and twisted and hissed right back at her when she showed her teeth, and did his best. It was cute. A little squicky, the hairlessness, but interesting and perverse (she considers herself perverse in a positive way) and basically hot.

They rolled around and he managed a few clever grips with arms and legs that made her think he'd done a lot of wrestling, but the flexible articulation of her limbs enabled her to wriggle free each time he looked like taking control.

Playful-vicious, she pinned him, extended her claws and ripped his boxers off him, and was unprepared when he froze, saying 'Red! Red!'

'What the fuck?' she asked, moving back, paws well clear of him.

'Claws. Near - ' he glanced down, and her eyes followed him. There wasn't a mark on his skin. 'That's - kind of a safe-word issue for me.'

'OK, love. Won't happen again,' she said, then, looking back down. 'Mrrrrm. Nice. Bit pink. But - it's quite _big_. By Felidae standards.'

'Thanks,' he said, recovering fast from his moment of panic. 'Ready for some more?

For answer, she bunched her muscles and pounced on him again.

That time, she managed to kick him off the bed, but he laughed breathlessly and came back up fighting, panting, pinker than ever, and beginning to exude more of those hot scents. Sweating, that's what they call it, she recalled, in the distant part of her brain that wasn't engaging in a sex-fight with a human.

Once he got the hang of how to wrestle her, he stopped trying to bite her - wrong sort of jaws - and cheated, locked those clever little monkey fingers in the loose scruff of her neck and squeezed - not hard, but hard enough to make her go a bit limp and relaxed.

'Waaaaaooow,' she crooned, softly. 'Oh, that's it, yeeeeeeahhhhh...' Her voice lost its coherence, grew wild and plaintive. 'That's - woah - you do that, I get really kind of - relaxed and - turned on - '

He kept his grip, tightened it a fraction, waiting for her to kick him off the bed again. She didn't - her knees were weakening, and the feeling of heat intensified right through her, sending a harsh, sudden kick of sensation to her cunt.

'You wanna...?'

'Yeeeeaass - I want to fuck now,' she growled.

'OK - yeah - '

Because he plays with lots of species, he still carries barriers, though the medicated lube he's got will probably prevent any of the major nasties in the galaxy. But there's 'probably' and there's 'as safe as possible', and he much prefers the latter. So he rescues a condom from his tunic pocket and rolls it on, while she crawls panting over into the middle of the bed, on her front.

'How do you wanna...?' but she answers his question by dropping her head, raising her butt, and tucking her tail off to one side.

'Like this,' she breathed.

'O _K_.' Kneeling behind her, he reached round to rub his hands through her fur again, and gets a half-distracted purr in response, but she's urging back against him, clearly very interested in one thing. He reaches to her neck and grips her loose nape again, squeezing, massaging. It draws the desired response - she makes another intense, haunting noise.

It sounds like desire feels - raw, ravaging, harsh, beautiful.

He kneads and palms the handful of fur, and with his other hand feels for her lips. He finds and parts them with a careful fingertip, partly to tease, partly trying to orient himself as to angle and wetness and things that it's helpful to know before just diving straight in.

With one delicate finger, he dipped inside. She instantly arched, her moaning intensifying. It's hot, and pleasing, and slightly worrying, to have anyone react so intensely to this, but he slips a second finger in and is rewarded with another wrenching noise of pleasure.

'Yeah?'

'Yes, naaaaaaaoooooow...'

Moved to be rougher, he begins to rub his fingers in and out, then, as all her moves and odd words were demanding 'More!', he withdrew his fingers and slid his cock inside her smoothly, as deep as he could.

So many new sensations. His free hand now running over her ribs and back, his fingers deep in her fur. The feel of the root of her tail against his abdomen, the tenseness in her legs against his, and the sweet, erotic noises she made, interspersed with rasping words - 'Fuck yes!', ' - so big - ', 'More!'

She thrashed under him, fighting him even while they fucked - arching and twisting to snarl at him, urging him on, taking lashes at him with her big paws, pretending to try to bite him. Getting the idea, he snarled back, tugging rougher at her scruff, raking his fingers harshly over her ribs, and giving sharp, vicious thrusts that were almost jabs, extending the playfight of earlier to a hotly contested fuck.

He was getting off on the newness and strangeness and tightness - not painful, just this side of a squeeze for both of them - and the feel of her fur and the noises she made and how turned on she clearly was. With her urging him on, demanding he go faster, he came quickly, his muscles tightening, a vivid, energetic release, and matched her deep cries with a rising yell of pleasure.

He withdrew, and rolled down onto the bed next to her, looped one arm over her back. Always, the impulse to snuggle after, to get warm and close and exchange whispers or kisses.

She flopped onto her side, looked at him.

'Good for you, monkey-boy?'

'Amazing. You?'

She looked a bit lost. 'No spines.'

'Oh, oh, didn't you - ?'

'Not to worry,' she said, and made a feline gesture loosely equivalent to flicking one eyebrow in controlled unconcern. 'You're only human.'

'Is there anything I can do?'

She leaned over, and curled herself round him as only a feline can curl - comfortable, elegant and effortless.

'S'OK. I'm gonna take my pill in a bit anyway.'

'No, but - you sure?'

'Hey.' She planted her head on her neat paws, looked at him, her pupils big. 'It's not like - I dunno, an _orgasm_. It's just the last bit, It's like - the best sort of pleasure-and-pain combo you've every had. You know?'

He nodded, slowly.

'But it's not necessarily like an orgasm.'

'But - '

'Hey. Stop worrying now.' She's relaxing, easing into a comfy posture, her eyes still on him. 'It's cross-species, babe. It's hot and kinky and the fun's in doing it, not having a head-splitting climax off've it. Hm?'

In his world, it's only fun if the other person has their fun too - not necessarily an orgasm, but some sort of catharsis. He's still young enough to worry that he's been self-centred, until she persuaded him to let go of the anxiety and lapse into his afterglow.

It turns out she is very good at afterglow, and soon he's curled up, with her wrapped closely round him, warming his sated body.

'Also...dunno if you get this...' she murmurred, sleepily, against the back of his neck.

'Hm?

'I love - talking about sex. Discussing it. Finding out new stuff. You like that?'

'Fuck yeah,' he muttered, sleepy but still alert to her words.

'I like you, monkey-boy. You're filthy and bald and pink and - you talk about stuff. It's nice.'

'Mmmm. Thanks.' He snuggled back against her, already asleep.

* * *

Morning after. Waking, snuggled into fur. Comfy. The purrs - human purrs as well as Felida ones - that say 'how did you sleep?' and 'you're still someone I like'.

Once they were half-awake:

'So,' he asked. 'Stop me if this is a rude question...'

She lifted her shoulders in what would be a shrug with different bone-structure. 'Go ahead, monkey-boy.'

'But how do you handle it when you do come on fully?'

'Back home - go find a tom. Here,' she winced slightly, as if thinking of something distasteful, 'I take a pill for it.

'Really?'

'When I'm on, I think of nothing but fucking. Yowling and rubbing. Can't do that on this planet. Too many humans getting squicked, and not enough toms. All the single girls here take pills.'

'Man. That's - kinda rough.'

Again, the shrug.

'Gotta be a market for Felidae sex toys, I'da thought. You know,' he rolled over to face her, grinning, 'with proper spines.'

'Never thought of that.' She considered. 'I could start the business, make a fortune.'

He leaned over, kissed the tip of her nose - damp, smooth, salty. 'You could, couldn't you?'

'Fuck yeah.'

'And, hey, how 'bout this, condoms with spines on for when humans and Felidae wanna play?'

She shivered, smiled.

'I like you. You've got a _really_ filthy mind.'

'Hey, I take that as a compliment.'

'I meant it like one.' She rolled over onto her back, stretching every limb as only a feline can.

'Feel like doing it again?' she asked, after yawning elegantly. 'I'm quite liking playing with you.'

He grinned. He had thought of something while he was half dozing, involving the creative use of his fingernails. He's not sure it would work, but it's worth asking.

'Oh, yeah! Hey, tell me what you think of this - I have an idea...'

END  



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